


Bedsheet Blues & Romantic Rampages

by DeMarcos



Series: Suit Up [2]
Category: Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits - David Wong, Zoey Punches The Future In The Dick - David Wong
Genre: Age Difference, Businessmen, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeMarcos/pseuds/DeMarcos
Summary: Zoey's trolls find out about her relationship with Will. She and the Suits try to find the source of their leak.
Relationships: Zoey Ashe/Will Blackwater
Series: Suit Up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992787
Comments: 23
Kudos: 10





	Bedsheet Blues & Romantic Rampages

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun churning out the last one that I figured a ridiculous little romp would a fitting followup!

There was a vicious rumor spreading throughout Tabula Ra$a. Something so twisted and vile that it had turned Zoey’s stomach when she’d first heard it. She hadn’t thrown up, thank god, as Stench Machine would have been pissed to have been covered in something that smelled worse than him, but had been a very close call. Zoey never had reacted well to public humiliation. Not as a child, not as a teen, and especially not as an adult, now that she was world famous. Or infamous, depending on who you asked. Even the slightest hint of embarrassment made her want to run for the hills and spend the rest of her life as a hermit.

This particular rumor had her wondering if you needed a permit to set up a hermitage in certain states. A hermit permit… heh.

Zoey sat in the Buffalo Room alone, burning with shame. Her phone dangled limply in her hand, not really paying attention to it, not when it would be some time before it notified her that she had visitors.

The awful rumor going around the city was that Zoey Ashe, daughter of _the_ Arthur Livingston, and sometimes laughingstock/whipping boy of Tabula Ra$a, was paying Will Blackwater to pity-fuck her.

Okay, yes, technically, it was _true_. She paid Will and he slept with her.

But that was where the technicalities ended. She paid Will and the Suits to do a job. Or rather, they paid themselves, as they handled the money side of things and set their own pay scales. Kind of like the Senate, greedily politicians voting on bills that included pay raises, praying their constituents were too busy watching back alley bum fights on Blink to complain.

Zoey knew that’s what _she_ was too busy doing to care. Some of those bum fights were awesome.

So, the Suits paid themselves with Zoey’s money, and they helped her run one of the biggest criminal empires parading as a legitimate enterprise in America. They showed up to work every week (as well as some weekends and holidays), they efficiently performed whatever tasks were required of them, both above and below board, which in turn generated massive profits.

And Will had sex with her.

He kept a very meticulous mental schedule, dutifully keeping track of billable work hours, off-book ‘negotiations’, his own personal time, and what he had dubbed (under extreme pressure for _something_ to call it) Zoey Time.

Zoey _loved_ Zoey Time. She loved it so much she had enrolled herself into her mother’s sex therapy classes, when it turned out her skills were a bit rusty and had only managed to make Will blackout a handful of times. Those were rookie numbers in her book, requiring immediate rectification.

When Will was working, he was working. He was his usual impassionate, calculating robot self. When he and the Suits were running operations under the table (a term they used because Zoey wasn’t fond of the words torture and corporate sanctioned blackmail), he was the Magician, utterly pants-wettingly terrifying and brutally efficient. Zoey had no idea what he was like when he was on personal time. She wasn’t even sure where he went during those times, or what he did. For all she paid him, he could own a palatial estate directly next door to the Casa where he stitched needlepoint pillows or collected lamps, and she just didn’t know about it.

When it was Zoey Time… woo, boy, was he something else entirely. Once he was out of his damn suits, he could become passionate and sensuous, or voraciously unhinged.

But Will was a consummate professional and didn't like to mix business with pleasure. Hell, he’d spent most of his employ with Arthur Livingston keeping the man from doing exactly that.

Will had _very_ strong opinions on the subject matter, for many reasons.

So no, the rumors were not true on their face. When she and Will were together, she was most certainly not paying him, and he _definitely_ wasn’t pity fucking her. If anything, he took their sexually charged encounters as a personal challenge. Will loved to be the smartest, most capable person in the room, lording over the plebs with his vast intelligence and wit like the massive nerd he was.

When he was with Zoey, however, she had the upper hand. It was one of the few things in life she genuinely excelled at. He pretended to hate it, but Zoey knew he fucking _loved it_.

Now all she had to do was keep him away from skinny blonde sorority girls…

The problem with this rumor, despite being utterly false and therefore the big new thing on everyone’s Blink feed, is that only seven people knew about her relationship. Herself, Will, Echo, Wu, Andre, Budd, and Carlton.

God, had that been awkward, after their first official night together, a week or so after Zoey had sustained her concussion, when Carlton had entered her room the next day with a tray of breakfast for two, a freshly pressed suit for Will, and a simple morning greeting. Zoey had to keep her face buried in her pillow to keep from screaming with laughter.

Oh, and Stench Machine knew. He currently wasn’t a fan of Will, seeing as he’d taken over his space in Zoey’s bed, but since he was incapable of blabbing, Zoey didn’t count him.

But _someone_ had blabbed their big, fat mouth and Zoey was on the warpath.

She’d sent out a group message telling them to get their asses back to the Casa, immediately. They had all officially clocked out for the day, but she hadn’t cared. Someone was going to fess up and pay dearly for their crimes.

Her phone dinged, the night security team informing her there was a car at the front gate. Zoey lifted it in her hand to look at the camera feed. None of the Suits required clearance to get in, but she had requested they inform her immediately when her team started arriving. The car rolled up the driveway and Zoey felt her stomach start doing the Cha-cha.

Maybe she was going to vomit after all.

One by one, they filtered through the door and into the Buffalo Room. Wu was first, dressed in comfortable looking gray trousers and a sweater. He must have been relaxing at home, enjoying a quiet evening with his family when he got the message. His wife was probably furious.

Zoey barely acknowledged his existence, too angry to say anything, and not wanting to have to repeat herself multiple times, decided to keep silent.

Budd was a few minutes behind him, wearing one of his customary ten-gallon cowboy hats, this one with a glittery band above the rim. He’d been at a strip club or one of the brothels, probably with a crowd of people around him, three sheets to the wind as he spun one of his wild yarns about the good ol’ days.

Budd started to say something, but sensing the tension in the air, quietly made his way over to the table lined with crystal decanters filled with every type of liquor under the sun and poured himself a double shot of whiskey.

Echo walked in with Andre, but going by their outfits, they hadn’t been out together, they’d just arrived at the same time. Echo was in her regular gym attire, form fitting yoga pants and an athletic jacket over a sports bra. She was glowing from her workout, hair swinging from a cute ponytail, and normally Zoey would have made fun of her, but not tonight. Echo even waited for the opening salvo but when none came, she shared a loaded glance with Andre.

The big man was in a startling white suit, the buttonholes threaded royal purple, a matching purple pocket square and a gold tie dotted with purple fleur de lis. If Mardi Gras was in town, no one had informed her. He quickly got the hint and sat down without saying a word. Budd slid him a glass of scotch.

Will, oddly enough, was the last to arrive. He glided into the room like a vampire, in a suit the color of midday on the dark side of the moon, his fedora covering his slicked back black hair. Chilly blue eyes cut across the room, taking its temperature and finding it as warm as a morgue.

He took off his hat and set it on the table. “I can tell this is going to be an interesting meeting.”

Zoey choked back the bile rising in her throat. “You’re all officially off the clock.”

Clutching her phone in a death grip, Zoey cast its display to the main screen on the wall across from the stuffed buffalo head with a sharp flick of her wrist. It was one of the first memes she found in the feeds fanning the flames of the rumors.

Her trolls had gone to a bestiality porn feed, screen-grabbed an image of a farmer committing indecent acts on a poor, defenseless cow and superimposed her and Will’s faces onto it. Will wasn’t the cow.

“One of you is going to die tonight.”

From under the table she produced a gun. She heard all their buttholes collectively tighten.

She had found the gun buried in some of Arthur Livingston’s possessions that hadn’t been donated or set on fire. He’d had dozens stashed around the house when he’d been alive, and it hadn’t taken Zoey very long to find one. The Suits knew their way around firearms and they could tell just by looking at it, by the sound it made when she set it on the mahogany conference table, that it was fully loaded and the safety was off.

“Security has turned off the propellant cookers, so believe me, it will get the job done.” She pitched her voice dangerously low, so they would understand that she meant business.

Budd was the first to speak up. “All this song and dance because of a meme?” He asked with a nervous chuckle. “Come on, Zoey, you know these idiots make them just to get under your skin.”

Zoey slammed her fist on the table with such ferocity the gun bounced and skittered on the table from the force of it. They all jumped as their panic increased.

“One of you assholes opened your fat fucking mouths and told someone about me and Will!” She screamed, leaping to her feet. She stared at all of them accusingly. “No one outside this house knew, which means it was one of you!” She jabbed a finger at every one of them. “One of you did this and now it’s _everywhere_!”

“Zoey,” Will cut in smoothly over her, “don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?”

She chucked her phone at him. Thankfully, he wasn’t a basketball hoop and it sailed past his head, hitting the door frame behind him. It clattered to the floor. He didn’t even flinch, the bastard.

Zoey stormed over to Will, hating him for being so goddamned tall and glared up at him. “You’re the one who told me I needed to surround myself with people who I could trust to never betray me! Who could never be bought by my enemies and would never stab me in the back!” Without turning, she pointed to the display screen. “What does that look like to you, huh?!”

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, aggravation building. This was most certainly an issue that had to be dealt with, but the accusations and the temper tantrum he could have done without. He’d come to learn, however, that countering her emotional outbursts with logic or facts tended to just add fuel to the fire. 

Considering his options, Will chose an alternate approach. “We’re off the clock?”

Zoey didn’t answer, too angry to figure out what he was playing at.

Taking her silence as permission, Will wrapped his arms around Zoey and pulled her into a hug. Her face went into his chest, ruffling his tie. He smelled nice. Had he been at a bakery buying her a pie?

“I can say, with one hundred percent certainty, that no one in this room has done any such thing.”

He must have given them a look over her head because they all began agreeing with him.

“I’ll be the first to say,” Wu started, “that while I don’t exactly approve, it’s not my job to approve who you carry on with... other than to make sure they're not a hitman, of course, but you know what I mean. I would never create something like _that_ just to make my feelings about you two known. I’d say it to your faces, not give these bridge trolls fodder to embarrass you.”

Andre chimed in, “And I know better than to ever cross your or Will. Shit, even high on coke and titties, no one could ever get me to talk about what goes on behind closed doors. Officially or unofficially. You know these lips are sealed.”

Voice thick with whiskey, she heard Budd open his mouth, somewhere to her right. He must have abandoned his perch at the booze table to come up behind her, to drive his point home. “I know a lot of people, and I know a lot of stories, the kinda shit that would pale in comparison to this current hullabaloo, but I swear to you, Zoey, I have never and will never speak outta turn. _That_ you can take to the bank.”

There was a hand on her shoulder and Will released Zoey so she could turn around to look at Echo. Echo smiled at her softly, sadness in her eyes. “Do I honestly even need to say anything to defend myself?”

Zoey shook her head and deflating like a balloon, pulled Echo into her arms. She laughed and hugged her back. Zoey felt the tension leave the room when she did so.

Echo had been her rock since almost the very beginning, once they'd gotten to know one another. It went beyond doing her job and saving her life, Zoey had looked to her for advice, for guidance when her life had been turned upside down. While Zoey and her mom had been close enough in age to be sisters, she truly thought of Echo as one.

“I’m sorry…” Zoey mumbled into her shoulder. “I was just so _angry_ and I was so sure it was one of you guys…”

Patting her on the back, Echo slowly pulled away and looked into Zoey’s teary eyes. “Someone found out somehow, but it wasn’t one of us.”

Zoey sniffled. “Is it another Gary situation? Everyone check, do you see anyone that looks like a Gary, maybe they’re right under your noses.”

“There are no currently stealth humans in here.” Will said, surreptitiously scanning the room. “But it’s not a bad idea to check around, just in case.” He walked over to where Zoey had been sitting. He picked up the gun, removed the clip, drew back the slide to empty the round that had been chambered and clicked the safety on.

Their buttholes unclenched.

Zoey started to say something but was cut off by her phone ringing on the floor. She craned her head down to stare at it. It was her mom.

“Shit!”

She dropped to the floor to pick it up and crossing her legs, Zoey answered. A hologram of Melinda’s head appeared in the air.

“Z, baby, tell me it’s not trueeeee!”

Her mom was high and Zoey wanted to crawl under a rock and die. When she had started taking her mom’s classes, of course she’d inquired about who Zoey was seeing, eager to have a mother-daughter heart-to-heart. Naturally, Zoey had to lie, not only because her mom didn’t like the Suits and was constantly trying to get Zoey to leave Tabula Ra$a for good, but because she was involved with Titus Chobb. Zoey certainly hadn’t wanted her and Will to be featured in her mom’s pillow talk with him, so she’d lied, telling her it was just some fling with a rich young playboy that she wanted to impress.

 _So much for keeping up appearances_.

“Mom, I-”

“Oh, god, I knew it! I knew that conniving perv would try to get into your pants, I tooooold you! If he’s making you do it, if he’s threatening you in aaaany way, just say the word and Titus and I will come get you. Not right now, we’re on South Padre Island, but when we get back, we can just disappear, wherever you think is safe!”

“He’s not _forcing_ me, mom!” Zoey cried, cheeks burning bright red. “I mean, not for _real_ , sometimes we do this thing-”

“You may not think soooo, hon, but a man that age shouldn’t be foolin’ around with young girls, not unless there’s something wrong with him, if you know what I meaaan.”

Zoey adamantly refused to glance up at Will. “Mom! Arthur was _literally_ twenty years older than you when you met him, I don’t think you have any room to talk about age differences!” Not only had Melinda been sixteen years old when she’d been knocked up, once she hit a certain age, she threw herself into the cougar role, going after men younger than her with her hippy, free love philosophy. Jezza had been one of them. He’d only been a few years younger but no self-respecting woman with a teenage daughter should have been dating a skeezy DJ.

“Oh, that was different! I was mature for my age and your father was young at heart. You’re so sweeeet and innocent, Z, and a man like Will Blackwater only wants sweet, innocent girls for one reason. He’s a snake, completely incapable of loving anyone but himself, and you deserve someone who will love you for who you are, not just for Arthur’s mooooney. I worry so much about that money making you become just like him, after he left.”

Hot tears poured down Zoey’s face, blurring her vision. She was shaking so hard the hologram wobbled in the air. “Mom, stop…”

“I have to go anyway, we’re at a party, but when it’s safe to talk, call me and I’ll get you out of there. Oh, Marti said to say hi, by the way. Bye, I love youuu, Z!”

The call disconnected. Zoey stared down at the phone blankly. She felt like she was vibrating on the floor, under the force of the Suits’ gaze on her. They’d all just witnessed one of the most mortifying conversations she’d ever been a part of, which was really saying something, given the people she’d had to deal with since coming to Tabula Ra$a. Thankfully, none of them dared to say anything, not even to attempt a joke in the hope it would lighten the mood.

 _I worry so much about the money making you become just like him_ …

Zoey recalled a story Will had once told her, of Arthur chasing him around the house with a gun, and wondered if it was the same one she’d just used to threaten them all. She dropped the phone in her lap, threw up all over herself, and slumped over onto the floor.

She _knew_ she should have done that before everyone had arrived.

* * *

A warm chest pressed up against her back and cool sheets were pulled up over her. Zoey still felt atrocious, the rage and humiliation eating her up inside, but the differing temperatures on her skin felt nice. She exhaled slowly and closed her heavy eyelids, trying to not let her thoughts drag her down into a misery spiral. Gentle fingers danced along her arm, careful not to stray too close to her rainbow scar. She hated when people looked at it, and she _really_ hated when anyone touched it.

Will said nothing, as if sensing there wasn’t anything he _could_ say in that moment that would make Zoey feel better. Attempting to contradict Melinda’s accusations, or efforts to reassure Zoey would only dredge everything back up, when he could clearly see the raw wound she was nursing. So, he just laid there, softly stroking her, his measured, even breaths billowing into her hair. The time for talk was later, when it wasn’t all still fresh in her mind. For now, he determined all she needed from him was just silence and emotional support. The former was easy enough for him.

He provided the latter by holding her close, tangling their legs together under the blankets, making her a cocoon with his body, a shelter she could find respite in. When he felt her finally relax in his arms, he kissed the back of her neck, whispered goodnight, and drifted off to sleep. Under his tender ministrations, she followed soon after.

It was honestly one of the most romantic things he’d ever done for her.

*~*~*

The _most_ romantic thing he’d ever done had been a few weeks previous, when he’d performed his sadistic corporate magic for her.

One of their competitors had been interested in purchasing a shell corporation they owned, some lucrative endeavor that had worked wonders turning their dirty money into clean profits. Zoey wasn’t exactly clear on the particulars, just that a meeting had been arranged at some cushy office in a skyscraper downtown and her presence was required.

Will had dressed her up in one of the power suits Tre had made for her, a charcoal grey affair that was business appropriate but still somewhat scandalous, given its plunging neckline and short skirt. The nylons he’d handed her had a thick seam that ran up the backs of her calves and thighs, and he’d paired them with razor thin stilettos that added five inches to her height. It took what little grace she possessed to keep herself from tipping over.

Consciously or not, Zoey couldn’t really tell, Will had chosen a similarly colored suit for himself, the grey of a storm cloud with a matching tie and a crisp white shirt underneath, not a wrinkle or crease to be seen. His delicately etched silver tie clip gleamed against his chest, and Zoey had felt like a magpie staring at it every time it caught the sunlight on the drive over.

They’d been escorted to a massive boardroom Zoey thought reeked of testosterone and butt sweat, and were instructed to have a seat.

While they waited for their counterparts to arrive, they sat in silence at the table across from each other. He tapped away on his phone, purposefully ignoring her. He was on the clock, and any outside observers never would have guessed that just the night before, they had feverishly sucked each other’s brains out. Hers were apparently still sitting on her bedroom floor, because when the negotiating duo walked in the door, she lost all her good sense.

The man was tall and well-built, as if he’d spent his free time outdoors, chopping wood and taking down moose with his bare hands. Bright green eyes shimmered under hair the color of cornsilk, and he had a refined Southern accent.

The woman was shorter but had similarly given herself the illusion of height with a pair of stunning heels that probably cost more than the entirety of Zoey’s suit. The tanned color of her skin suggested her ancestry lied somewhere below the Tropic of Capricorn, the hard gaze of her intense brown eyes giving her an exotic, deadly aura.

After some casual back-and-forth greetings and comments about the weather, they’d quickly gotten down to business. Will handled most of it, as he was well-versed in their corporate holdings and what a fair deal on acquiring one of them entailed. He had come prepared to protect Zoey’s interests, ready with facts and figures that made her head spin.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was the skill of their female negotiator, Esperanza. It was like watching a verbal fencing match, a riposte here, a parry there, neither managing to land first blood as they bandied about. She took everything he gave her, giving just as good as she got, and then some.

Will was enthralled.

The man, Jacob, would cut in occasionally to say something witty to Zoey, filling her in on their goals after the acquisition while Will and Esperanza discussed the fine print. He told her they were going to keep on the current staff, while expanding the business, to create more job opportunities and prosperity for the area. Zoey listened to that honeyed accent happily, eyelashes fluttering every time he said her name.

It took Zoey about a half hour to realize what was going on, when Jacob oh-so casually mentioned his destitute upbringing. Her heart sank in her chest. Their counterparts were _literally_ their counterparts. Jacob had been specially selected to draw Zoey in with his big doe eyes, easygoing demeanor, and similar backstory, whereas Esperanza had been selected to be Will’s foil, the rock against which all his corporate haggling would be buffeted, a worthy opponent for a man such as himself to face off with.

Zoey cut her gaze over to Will, watching him as he gleefully went on the offense, only for Esperanza to counter with some well-crafted defense. Zoey knew most of his tells, however, and it was obvious he was immensely displeased, despite the look of elation on his face.

Esperanza handed over a flat black file folder, the contracts that needed to be signed to finalize the deal. She and Will hashed out some details while Jacob stood up, offering to escort Zoey into a suite just off to the side of the boardroom, so she and Will could discuss things privately before agreeing to any terms.

Feeling like a complete moron, she entered the room behind him, seeing but not seeing the plush carpeting, comfy looking chairs, and the one-way glass window that looked out onto Tabula Ra$a. It was probably heavily reinforced, meaning she couldn’t hurl herself through to put an end to her abject mortification.

A moment later, Will walked in and shut the door.

“This is where all their shady deals take place, so we don’t have to worry about it being wired for sound or video.” Will said, making his way over to the drink cart. It wasn’t even noon yet, but she figured he needed something to take the edge off.

Zoey merely hummed, too distracted with her self-loathing to speak. She went over to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the street below, the hustle and bustle of the city entirely unaware of just how much she hated herself at the moment for being so easily duped.

Without warning, Will slammed his weight against her back, pushing her into the glass. The carpeting had been too thick for her to hear his approach. Zoey threw her hands up to brace herself, only for Will to slot his fingers between hers, deftly holding her in place. She was certain the cleaning lady would panic when she came in to clean up that night, only to think some twenty-fingered freak had smeared their fingerprints all over the window.

Her boobs smashed into the glass, making her gasp, the sense of being trapped causing her breathing to quicken in a momentary flash of panic. The extra inches provided by her high heels allowed Will to angle his groin into her butt. His vodka moistened lips pressed against her ear.

“I’m going to feed these two harebrained idiots a gold-plated shit sandwich and they’re going to savor every last bite. And I’m going to do it for _you_.” He said, voice low and rough. “That woman is so utterly convinced she has the upper hand, that their little ploy to divide and conquer will rake them in millions…” The tip of his tongue traced the shell of her ear.

“What they don’t know is that in six months, the markets are going to shift after a few European austerity measures aren’t passed, leaving them holding the bag of a worthless corporate entity. We’re not going to make a profit with this deal, but they’re going to lose their shirts. And they’re so busy playing us to realize _they’re_ the ones getting played.” Zoey’s cheeks burned red. While she’d been cooing over Jacob, Will had caught on to what they were doing, probably the moment the pair walked through the door, or mere seconds after the first time she’d fluttered her eyelashes at Jacob, and had conjured up a plan to get back at them for the tactic in record time.

He hadn’t been flirting with Esperanza, he’d been reeling her in by making her think she was doing the same to him.

Will grinded himself against her and a quiet moan escaped Zoey’s throat, fogging the glass. She was so utterly aroused that he was breaking his ‘no mixing business and pleasure’ rule to reassure her that things were going exactly according to plan that she was surprised there wasn’t a puddle beneath her on the floor.

“Her and that cornfed meat-neck you were swooning over are going to take the blame for their regrettable oversight, trying to mess with me... with _you_.”

Zoey whimpered, and Will growled, capturing her lips in a biting kiss.

Then, as suddenly as he was there, he was gone. Back across the room at the drink cart, fingers wrapped around a tumbler. Zoey felt dizzy. She only knew it hadn’t all been her imagination because she could see Will white-knuckling the glass, imperceptibly reigning himself in.

A moment later, Jacob and Esperanza entered the suite, ready to close in for the kill.

Zoey wobbled over to one of the chairs, and Jacob sat down across from her, their knees so close together they were almost touching. He was all smiles but now that Zoey knew what she was searching for, she could see it was all just veneer, a corporate ploy to win her over.

It dawned on her that Will hadn’t _jus_ t been trying to reassure her with his little stunt. She could smell her own arousal lingering in the air and Zoey dug her nails into the arms of the chair. That asshole, he’d purposefully gotten her riled up so Esperanza and Jacob would think she had strong-armed Will into agreeing to the acquisition, based on sexual desire alone, and that Will had dumbly gone along with it because he’d been entranced by Esperanza after having his wit matched and exceeded.

True to form, her and Will were leaning over the folder of contracts, heads close together as they spoke, Will’s hand hovering over the small of Esperanza’s back. He motioned with his free hand at some term in the contract and then chuckled quietly, pointing at her mouth, as if they were sharing an inside joke.

 _Yeah, you eat that shit sandwich_ , she imagined Will was saying without words, _bite, chew, swallow, repeat_.

After the contracts were signed and handshakes were given all around, Jacob made some hollow suggestion they get together later for drinks, and Zoey had mumbled a half-hearted agreement. She was too distracted by her simultaneous seething anger at Will for winding her up and the aching desire to jump his bones to properly string words together. Besides, she knew damn well if she actually called to set something up, he’d be conveniently occupied with other projects until Judgement Day.

 _Are you available anytime_ after _the Second Coming_?

On the way home, Zoey and Will sat silently in the backseat of the car, Wu giving them weird glances in the rearview mirror. Usually after a deal well-made, Will would elucidate to everyone within listening distance just how poorly his opponents had played the game. It was in those rare instances that they actually had to put in effort to _shut_ him up, rather than trying to get him to open up.

Wu said nothing about it, however, probably grateful Will wasn’t in a self-congratulatory mood, or he sensed the tension between them and decided it was best not to poke the bear.

When they were safely back inside the walls of the Casa, Will had taken Zoey’s hand, declaring himself on Zoey Time as he led her upstairs to one of the numerous walk-in closets. He chose one in particular because one wall was entirely lined with mirrors, so you could check yourself out from every possible angle.

He manhandled Zoey into the position he’d had her in back in the suite, trapped between him and the glass. Divesting her of her hosiery and underwear (but asking her to keep the heels on), Will took her from behind, growling under his breath about their meeting, about Jacob in particular, each word punctuated with a languorous thrust.

_My gestures and declarations of how much I care are made through action._

Will had played the gullible fool, agreed to accept a poor deal on their end, and doomed a rival company to multiple fiscal quarters of net losses, just for her. The failed austerity measures he’d mentioned, he wasn’t just keeping an eye on the markets, he was most likely going to get involved to make sure they _didn’t_ go through, just to ensure his plan came to fruition, the coy son of a bitch.

And even though that day, and in the past, Will had dolled her up to make men think she was sexually available, he’d been royally aggravated that Jacob had tried to pull the same tactic on her. He’d seen Esperanza coming from a mile away, but Zoey had been slower to catch on, and had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Not that she ever would have up and dumped Will’s ass so callously for Jacob, but jeez, she had eyeballs, and didn’t think there’d been any harm in flirting back.

But he’d been _jealous_. Will Blackwater had been jealous of _her_. And proven himself the better man with his viciously unforgiving tactics.

Zoey’s heart swelled as she stared back at him through the mirror, seeing how he was declaring his love for her.

Yup, pure romance.

* * *

Zoey thought about that meeting fondly the next morning as she worked her way around the coffee bar in the kitchen. Carlton was bustling around behind her, preparing breakfast for Stench Machine. The cat in question was stretched out on the floor, wearing a look that said if he wasn’t fed immediately, someone was going to find a turd in their shoes.

When she was done with the masterpiece she was currently working on, Zoey turned the handle on the espresso machine to drop in a few shots. She then used a toothpick to draw a heart in the foam before handing it off to Wu.

After the night she’d had, Zoey had needed to lose herself in a mind-numbing task and when the Suits had gathered at the Casa the following morning, she told them to meet her in the kitchen, so she could present them with her craft, as a means of apology.

She’d gone to town on the French press to make a steaming cup of black coffee for Budd, who was probably hungover from the night before, it not still mildly drunk. Echo had also requested a simple black coffee, as she was careful about everything she put into her body, to the point of being anal retentive. Zoey had mocked her discipline but poured her a cup nonetheless.

Zoey even made Will the exact kind of tea he liked, hot, plain, and boring, and he had been surprised when she hadn’t presented him with the usual monstrosities she created for him. If he hadn’t been aware of what she was doing, working hard to apologize to them all, he would have thought Zoey was trying to poison him by serving him what he’d asked for. He was on the clock, however, so he merely thanked her and took a sip.

No poison, just love.

For Andre, she made some sugary, overcaffeinated abomination that was more syrup and Irish crème than coffee, but he’d specifically requested it, and she’d dutifully whipped it up for him. It was gone by the time she had started on Wu’s cappuccino, requiring her to stop and make him another one.

When she was done, she picked up the French press and emptied the last of its contents into her own cup. Zoey added a few teaspoons of raw sugar and a dash of Irish crème to hers before drinking it.

“So,” she started over the rim of the cup, “I suppose I should start by actually apologizing, not just buy your forgiveness with coffee.”

“It’s a damn good start.” Budd said appreciatively, his nose even redder than usual. Maybe the next intervention would have to be for Budd’s _actual_ drinking problem, not Will’s imaginary one. “Best cup in the city.”

“Liar.” She said, damn certain the best cup came from a seedy food truck that laced theirs with cocaine.

Budd smiled all the same, giving her a playful wink.

“We understand why you were mad, Zoey,” Andre said, after swallowing down the dregs of his second cup of liquid heart attack, “someone screwed the pooch on this one and they’re raking you over the coals for it. I know if some Chatty Kathy had blabbed about any of my relationships to the media, I’d be pissed as hell.”

Echo smirked. “Which one? Wife number two I could understand but I thought you’d be singing number three’s praises from the mountaintops.”

“Hell, I’ll go on Blink myself and tell the whole world about that freak-a-leek, but Rochelle?” Andre shuddered. “Y’all better take that shit to the grave.”

Zoey raised her eyebrows and traded glances with Wu, who was equally in the dark. “Do we even want to know?”

Will lifted his tea to his lips. “Even if you wanted to, we’ve been ordered to be buried with that secret.”

She shrugged and moved on, knowing how implacable Will could be when it came to getting information out of him. She’d have more luck getting secrets out of a rock. Zoey would just have to ask Budd later, when he was hopped up on Dutch courage and in an extremely talkative mood.

“Well, speaking of being buried, we need to find whoever it is going around telling people about Will and I.”

Several pairs of eyes blinked at her.

“You want… to _kill_ someone for spreading rumors about you?” Wu asked, a little surprised. Sure, she’d threatened them all with a gun the night before, but they all knew deep down she’d never actually kill anyone. She didn’t even like killing people who were trying to kill her. Mostly. “After reading us the Riot Act about our shady practices and methods?”

Zoey drummed her fingers on the countertop, mulling over suitable means of punishment. “Yeah, probably too extreme. Okay, fine, I want you to find our leak and… make bees hate them.”

Will choked on his tea.

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Budd asked, agog.

“You heard me. I want bees to _hate_ them. Any time they walk around outside, if they come anywhere near a bee, that bee and all his little bee friends should want to end their existence. A cloud of angry bees, all day every day. There’s gotta be some chemical or pheromone that can make that happen, right?”

“That…” Budd trailed off, considering. “You might be on to something there, Zoey. I know some R&D guys, lemme see what I can dig up.”

Zoey didn’t know if Budd was just humoring her or not, but all the same she gave him a lopsided grin and two very enthusiastic thumbs up.

“In the meantime, we’re gonna to have to search the house staff for any stealth humans. Anyone of them could have witnessed… whatever it is you two get up to when the sun goes down.” Andre turned a lecherous stare on Will, who decidedly ignored him.

Echo finished off her coffee, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and looked to Zoey. “I have an idea, but there’s no promises it will pay dividends. Won’t hurt to do some digging, though, just in case. Give me a few hours and I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

Zoey nodded. “Meet back here before dinner, exchange notes?”

They adjourned after that, the kitchen filling with their clamoring voices as they left their used cups in the sink and made their way outside. They broke off, each with their minds set on their tasks.

“Hey, Will…” Zoey called out as he was donning his fedora, the morning sunshine pouring in through the foyer windows backlighting him, giving him an ethereal glow.

He said nothing but didn’t move, waiting for the others to leave so they could talk in peace, paying no mind to their ribbing as they walked out the door, mocking the way Zoey had called out to him in simpering tones.

Once they were alone, he managed a tiny smile. “Yes?”

Zoey shifted uncomfortably on her feet, hands clasped in front of her. “You remember that meeting we had some time ago… with Esperanza and Jacob?”

Will blinked, obviously having not expected for her to ask that question. “I remember.” He said, an odd lilt to his voice, mind clearly going exactly where Zoey’s had, to _after_ said meeting.

“You said that the suite we were in wouldn’t be surveilled… could it have been?”

His expression morphed so completely, from the hint of fond remembrance to burning rage, that to Zoey, it was like he had become an entirely different person in the blink of an eye. His already pale face drained of color. The wheels in his head were turning, doing the math on the timetable of destruction he had elaborately created for them and the answer he arrived at was not a good one, going by the way his already cold blue eyes froze over.

“If it was, I’ll make certain where they end up _won’t_ be.”

With that, he spun on his heel and marched out the front door, leaving Zoey alone.

Stench Machine curled his furry body around her ankle and mewled up at her. Demanding his own Zoey Time.

Well, at least spending some time with him would keep her off Blink. By now, the memes would have evolved and she didn’t really feel like spending the day drunk, crying in the bathtub.

* * *

Wu found her passed out in the bathtub later in the evening. The tub was empty and she was fully clothed, Stench Machine snoozing above her on the lip of the tub. She had a half empty schnapps bottle next to her and a vape in her hand full of stuff she tried to hide from Will but knew that he damn well knew about it. He pretended not to care when she got high, when she became convinced drugs were better than dealing with the problems of the real world, but Zoey was well aware of how much he disapproved. She had cut back a lot since they’d gotten together.

Mostly.

Zoey batted Wu away when he tried to rouse her, sleepily demanding five more minutes.

Exactly five minutes later, Will woke her up.

“Get up.” He said coolly. Still on the clock.

Glass bottle skittering across the porcelain, Zoey heaved herself out of the tub, bare feet hitting the tiles. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror and immediately understood why Will was upset. Mascara had run down her face in thick rivulets, making her look like a cracked-out goth party clown. The sclera of her eyes were spotted red and her cheeks were puffy from crying.

“I wasn’t throwing myself a pity party.” She said quickly, tossing the vape in the sink.

He caught her gaze in the mirror. “What you do in your personal time is none of my concern.” He replied without a hint of emotion.

Oh, he wasn’t upset. He was _livid_. In his mind, they’d been working their butts off to find out the source of their leak and she had spent the day locked in her room, getting baked out of her gourd and crying. Arthur had been a man of many vices, but he still found the wherewithal to get out of bed every day and get shit done. Zoey, bless her heart, had tried to do the same, but somehow always found herself falling back into bad habits. Will had gone into their relationship with eyes open but he knew there were some things he couldn’t change about her until she found the motivation to change them herself.

The expression on his face, or lack thereof, said that he believed this incident was one of those things.

“I called my mom.” Zoey said softly. “It wasn’t pretty.”

Will’s stance changed drastically.

 _Clocking himself out… aaand there he is, my Will_.

“What did she say?”

“Heh… almost exactly what she said last night. That you’re a creepy old pervert who has manipulated me into sleeping with you, that I’ve been brainwashed by you and the other Suits, to turn me into a little Arthur clone you can use for your evil machinations, and if I’m too blinded by money and nice clothes to see it, she at least hopes I’m using protection, because God forbid you get me pregnant, then you’ll just poison the kid, too.”

Zoey braced herself on the countertop of the sink, hanging her head so Will couldn’t see her face. He knew just how badly she wanted a kid, how sometimes she ached for the daughter she had conjured up in her mind. It just so happened she _was_ on birth control, because she was paranoid about raising a kid in Arthur’s world, where they would spend their life with a target on their back. But her mother telling her that if that dream became a reality, with Will, it would be the biggest mistake of her life, it had cut the heart right out of Zoey.

Melinda Ashe was a dyed-in-the-wool hippy, a modern gypsy that roamed from place to place and man to man. It was a man’s job to take care of his woman, after all, and she enjoyed being taken care of. The problem with the world, in her mind, was that people had forgotten how to love people, instead of loving things. No object in the world could be imbued with enough love to love you back. You poured your love into _people_. Men took care of their women, and in turn, the women took care of their men and their children. Children were to be cherished and a home was to be made for them, so they could grow up right, in the loving arms of those who would be their guides in the world, who wouldn’t turn them into materialistic little goblins.

But she also loved drugs, sex, and partying with her friends until the sun exploded in the sky. Her own child languished under the cruel tutelage of the men she’d brought home to be her stepfather, under the delusion that she had enough wherewithal to tame their rough edges. Melinda used her body to earn money to put a roof over their heads, and lure in the next man who would take care of her (or get her high for a few weeks), while not understanding why her daughter dealt with body issues her whole life.

Zoey loved her mother dearly, but she would get so caught up in her own philosophy that she couldn’t see how much she was failing to bring it to fruition in their lives. Melinda was a complex woman, full of quirks and contradictions, with talents that made her both useful and useless. She’d found that out after sponsoring her mother’s boyfriends idiotic scams and pyramid schemes. Zoey _still_ loved her.

Right up until she’d said that.

Zoey let out a hollow laugh, echoing eerily off the tiled bathroom walls. “She tried to convince me to ‘escape your clutches’ and said that Titus would be willing to help make us disappear. I think he’s still pissed you threatened to feed his skull to the propellers of his stupid fucking blimp.”

She felt Will come up behind her, perhaps to comfort her, but she shook her head. “Don’t. Please, don’t touch me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he backed off, and Zoey laughed again, this time genuinely. _Goddamn, but do I love this man_.

“I’m sorry I got high. And drunk. High and drunk, drunk and high. But… she _knows_ what I’ve been through. The Hyena, Molech, Dirk and the trolls. Christ, they almost buried her alive. She’s heard what they’ve said about me, she’s seen the memes, but I just lost it… all those death threats, all the rape threats, only for her to accuse _you_ of doing those things to me. I wasn’t having a pity party.” Zoey repeated. “I was coping.”

“You two got into a fight.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah. Big ol’ fight. Every time I tried to defend myself, to defend _you_ , she brushed it off as brainwash talk. Wouldn’t even listen to my side of the story… she’s going to Fiji with Titus and will be gone for a few weeks. She said she’ll call me when she got back, to see if I changed my mind.” Zoey lifted her head to look at Will, but his reflection wasn’t looking back at her. Instead, he was glancing around the bathroom, searching for something.

“It’s in the toilet. In pieces.” The toilet hadn’t been happy with it, insisting it couldn’t flush electronics, so Zoey left it to float in there.

He stepped forward to peer down into the bowl at her phone. He arched a brow.

“That would explain why you didn’t answer my messages.”

“It’s not like I can’t afford a new one.” The blasè tone of her own voice, the casual disregard, made her cringe.

Zoey suddenly spun around and looked up at Will properly. “Tell me this is real.” She begged. “I mean, I know it’s real, I know that you’re not with me to get at my money, or so you shove your hand up my ass and use me as a sock-puppet. Tell me _this_ ,” she motioned between them with a finger, “is real, that what I feel for you isn’t just all in my head, or that I’m projecting everything onto you, that we didn't just leap into a fling after my accident because emotions were running high and that it will eventually fizzle out.”

With measured steps, Will closed the distance between them. Gathering up his full height, he towered over her, asking permission with a silent stare.

 _Oh, right, I told him not to touch me_.

She nodded. Will brought up his hand to cradle her cheek with his long fingers, tilting her head up. With his other hand, he brushed back the bangs that had been sticking to her forehead, tucking them behind her ear. His eyes traced the line of her lips and Zoey stood up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway. He kissed her slowly, pouring his heart and soul, every fiber of his being into it. He poured into her a breath of life, telling her with his actions that all that she felt for him, everything she wanted or needed from him, it was returned tenfold.

An oppressive weight lifted off her shoulders, off her heart. In time, she’d deal with her mother, and she was comforted by the fact that Will would be by her side when she did, no matter the ultimate outcome.

Zoey sighed, curling her fingers into the lapels of his suit jacket, careful not to clutch it too hard, so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

They broke apart, Will resting their foreheads together. Noses touching, they traded breaths, peering into each other’s eyes.

“Tell me I’m not turning into my father.”

Will blinked. “If you were, I might have to rethink this relationship. Arthur wasn’t exactly my type.”

Zoey couldn’t help but laugh in his face.

He managed a smile, more a reflex of seeing her smile than being amused by his own with. “Clean yourself up. You look like a hobo clown. You might scare off Andre.” He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “We’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

He turned to leave but Zoey reached out to grab the cuff of his suit sleeve. He paused and glanced back at her.

“Is he really afraid of clowns?”

“Afraid is… such a _poor_ word to describe how he truly feels.”

An evil grin spread across Zoey’s face.

*~*~*

Ten minutes later, Zoey padded into the dining room, where Carlton was serving dinner. Andre, Budd, and Will were seated around the table, but Will was the only one not eating. Andre and Budd were digging in as if they hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. They _loved_ Carlton’s cooking. Echo was noticeably absent. Wu had been waiting for her in the hall and he followed her into the room. He sat down and Carlton immediately placed a plate in front of him. When it was just her and the Suits, there wasn’t much for him to do, as he didn’t have to worry about any of them going for Zoey’s throat, so he let his guard down to eat.

Zoey went to her chair, sitting down with a world-weary sigh. The food smelled amazing, but her stomach was still in knots from the schnapps and the emotional upheaval. Carlton set a bowl of steaming soup in front of her. Everyone else had plates full of salmon, angel hair pasta tossed with mushrooms and zucchini, mashed roasted red potatoes, and fresh greens, but for Zoey he’d made homemade chicken noodle soup. He’d probably killed and plucked the chicken himself.

“Carlton, will you marry me?”

He didn’t even stop from setting up her napkins and silverware. “You’re too kind to ask, Ms. Zoey, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, as you’re already spoken for.”

“Wu, kill Will. Me, Carlton, and his cooking skills are running away together.”

Slurping up a mouthful of noodles, Wu nodded his head. “On it, boss.” He said between bites. Wu reached across the table for a little silver container of parmesan cheese but found it just out of reach. Budd kindly handed it over to him.

“Now that that’s settled,” Zoey started, picking up her spoon. “what have you guys found out?” She blew on the spoonful of soup before swallowing it down, humming in sheer ecstasy. The savory broth and delicately seasoned chicken warmed her soul. Beside her, Will picked up his utensils to dig into his meal.

Andre washed down his food with a swig of some clear liquid that definitely wasn’t water and flashed her a serious look. “You need to fire the chick who does the flowers, the horticulturist with the crazy name.”

All eyes turned to him.

“It’s not a crazy name,” Zoey said defensively, “it’s just more consonants than vowels and is hard to pronounce.” She’d planted catnip for Stench Machine without even having to be asked. “Why?”

“I went through the estate staff with a fine-tooth comb, family backgrounds and Blink history, to see if any of them were our stealth human.”

Zoey’s jaw dropped. “She’s our leak?”

Andre shook his head. “No. But you need to fire her.”

“Jesus, what did you find that human resources missed?” The vetting process for anyone who stepped foot on the grounds was arduous, and had been specifically designed that way, not only to avoid potential assassins, but to avoid coming down on the wrong side of immigration or tax laws.

Will hated IRS tax lawyers with a burning passion.

It was unnerving, the expression that crossed Andre’s face. Even Will seemed surprised by his fervor.

“Trust me. _Fire her_.”

Whatever he’d come across, it had to have been bad, to unsettle a big man like Andre Knox. Zoey trusted him implicitly. If he’d told her jumping into an active volcano was the only way to save her life, she would trust his instincts without question.

“Was it clowns?” She questioned.

“Girl, you better _shut_ your goddamn mouth!” He shouted, visibly shivering at just the thought.

Zoey and Budd began hooting with laughter, much to Andre’s chagrin. He glared hateful daggers at all of them.

Will just smiled down at his plate as he meticulously cut his salmon into small pieces. He took a bite, slowly chewed, swallowed, and said, “Ask him about Novgorod.”

Budd’s already red face turned scarlet, cheeks puffing up as he fought to contain his laughter. His eyes were aglow with mirth. A buttered roll bounced off Budd’s head, and Andre slumped down in his seat, folding his arms across his broad chest, clearly not amused.

“Y’all are some stone-cold assholes.”

“Hmm, speaking of assholes,” Will started, pointing his knife at Zoey, “per your query this morning, my timetable is still in effect, just as planned, but the answer is no.” He didn’t have to elaborate any further for Zoey to understand what he meant. The others didn’t and traded confused glances, but when it was clear no one was going to answer their questions, they let it pass.

“Huh… good to know. Maybe Jacob wasn’t such a douche canoe after all.”

Will fixed Zoey with a frown so intense she knew she’d pay for the comment later.

It was why she’d said it.

“Ooh, that’s an ugly look,” Echo said, waltzing into the dining room, “careful, it might get stuck like that.”

“Where have you been?” Will asked, still frowning.

Echo walked around to Zoey, gently wrapped her hand around her arm and motioned for her to stand up. “Finding our leak.”

Zoey managed to get one last bite of soup into her mouth before she followed Echo’s lead, getting to her feet. At first she thought Echo was going to take her to the Buffalo Room or the Farting Room, but instead, Echo walked her over to the other side of the table, between Wu and Budd.

Budd really needed to do something about his bushy eyebrows, before they gentrified his face. Zoey felt Wu straighten in his chair, readying himself for… _something_. She glanced down at her socked feet. If she needed to run, she wouldn’t get very far before she fell ass over teakettle.

Carlton kept the floors impossibly spotless.

“Well,” Andre started, “don’t keep us hanging… what’d you find out?”

Echo side-eyed him. “That the Hub is a disgusting place and I need a shower.”

“That’s where you’ve been all this time?” Wu asked. She’d made it seem like she was going on a hunt, not spending the day jacked into the virtual world.

“Believe me, I wish I hadn’t been. I made the mistake of using a female avatar without a voice modulator and… I knew men were disgusting pigs, but _damn_.”

There was a sound of general disapproval from the men gathered in the dining room, each proclaiming their innocence in any pig-like behavior. Zoey and Echo traded glances.

Andre and Budd were both perverts of the highest order, with a string of ex-wives and spurned lovers behind them that could have spanned the globe. It probably did, too, considering they, along with Will, had traversed the world together in their younger days doing their psyops work. She shivered at the thought of how many illegitimate children they might have had between the two of them.

Wu was a family man with kids he loved dearly, who valued all life down to the smallest creature, but Zoey spent most of her days around him. She could vouch for not only for well-intentioned chivalry that occasionally bordered on condescension, but for a few unsavory comments directed at her and Will’s relationship, stemming not from judgement but his well-defined (in his mind) sense of right and wrong. He was human, after all, with opinions shaped from his worldview.

Zoey thought he could shove his opinions up his butt.

And Will… Echo had known Will longer, she knew things about him Zoey didn’t and probably never would (not for a lack of trying), but Zoey was intimately aware of his predilections, how he viewed most people as cogs in a machine he could manipulate whenever it pleased him, as well as his base carnal desires. He was quite capable of making her feel dirty in _all_ the right ways.

That wasn’t to suggest that in turn, she couldn’t make him squeal like the little piggy he was.

 _Yes, little piggy, writhe_ …

Echo carried on over their protestations. “At any rate! After I made some adjustments, I had to work my way down a rabbit hole of just utter filth your trolls have been wallowing in.” She peered over at Zoey. “Did you really have someone make child porn of you?”

The clamoring immediately died down. Zoey wanted to melt into the floor. She squeaked out a giggle of mortification as all eyes turned to her.

“I mean… I was fourteen, so technically yes.” Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. “Oh, god, did they _find_ that video?” It had been a live feed uploaded to the internet but that had been over ten years ago. The police in Fort Drayton had done their best to scrub it, not that it had stopped the kids at school from taunting her mercilessly after they’d seen it.

A haunting bitter taste of the pills she had tried to overdose on rose in her throat.

Echo placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “No, thank god, but some of your old classmates are now a big deal amongst your trolls, since they knew you before all this. They talked about watching it in the Hub forums and… well, best you not know the rest.”

Budd, who normally wore a constant congenial expression, stared up at Zoey with eyes hardened under his untamed eyebrows. “And the sack of human shit who made it? He still kickin’ around somewhere?”

“No… Will had him killed. For something else.”

Will was startled by the statement. Not because he was innocent of the accusation, but because he’d had a number of people killed. It only took a few seconds for him to recall who she was talking about, but quickly schooled his expression once the name came back to him. “If I’d known he’d done that to you, I wouldn’t have made it look like an accident.”

Due to laws protecting sex crime survivors, Zoey’s name hadn’t been listed as a victim on Jezza’s mile long rap sheet. It had merely stated that one of his many crimes had been creating and distributing child pornography. A gross oversight on his part. If he had done the math, compared Zoey’s story to the dates listed, he might have…

“Too bad.” Andre piped up. “Would have been fun to skin him alive and flay him open for all the world to see, so they’d know what would happen if they mess with our little Zoey.”

Zoey narrowed her eyes at him. “I am most definitely not _little_.” She shook her head. “Can we move on from this, please? I already had to live through it once, and right now, I’m more concerned with our _current_ scumbag.”

Echo chuckled, cutting through the somber air in the room. “Man, I am _so_ glad you phrased it like that…” She pulled out her phone and tapped her fingers on the screen. “So there I was, talking with these jackasses, sifting through all the garbage, thinking I was going to lose my mind or gouge out my eyeballs, when I finally hit paydirt. Ground zero, the first post where it all started…” She brought up the images on her display.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the source of our leak and resident scumbag… Will Blackwater.” Echo jabbed her free hand in the air proudly, indicating Will, who was seated alone at the other side of the table. Zoey then understood why Echo had pulled her from her seat, so she could isolate Will for a big dramatic reveal.

It got so quiet in the dining room they could have heard a fart from a mile away.

“No way…” Zoey breathed in stunned awe.

It was three different images, two from some fancy-dress party they’d attended the previous week and a screengrab from the trolls’ forum stream. In the first picture, Zoey was standing in the foreground with a group people around her. Her mouth was open in a genuine laugh, as one of the ladies she’d been talking to had been nouveau-riche herself and they’d been badmouthing the hoity-toity guests also in attendance. Will was standing in the background a few feet behind her, next to some wrinkly old judge that was probably on their payroll, but his sharp blue eyes were glued to Zoey.

In the next picture, taken maybe thirty seconds after the first, Zoey had craned her head around to look back at Will (to repeat something obscene the lady had told her), who was openly smiling at her with an uncharacteristic loving expression on his face.

Will Blackwater, the feared Magician of Tabula Ra$a, was smiling on camera, at it wasn’t at a bloody massacre he had orchestrated. It was a pure, off-the-cuff moment.

The third image was the forum stream, where Zoey’s trolls were roasting her alive, talking shit about her weight, her teeth, her trailer trash upbringing, the usual, but after the two pictures had gone live, they’d gone insane, mocking Will for staring at her like a lovesick chubby chaser, wondering if it was illegal to bang your cash cow, and if he had to clean his dick with a flamethrower afterward. From there, it just got worse and worse, until it had spiraled out into mainstream meme land.

In the span of thirty seconds, Will Blackwater had given himself and Zoey up, and he’d done it all with just a smile he couldn’t keep from hiding.

_Romance!_

Budd broke the silence by banging his fist on the table, doubling over in laughter. Tears welled up in his eyes as he howled loudly.

“Now we have to make bees hate Will!”


End file.
